Dead Fish and Dinner Dates
by Aquiel1
Summary: This was written while I contemplated the ending for my second fic.


Disclaimer: I don't own em, I just let them have fun.

Note: Ok, weird. Yup, I know. Anyway, here's why: My fish died, I hate my philosophy class because it boggles my brain and I couldn't figure out how to end the other story I'm working on. Good enough?

Great!  


_Dead fish and Dinner Dates_

By: [Aquiel][1]

  


"Rachel, have you ever thought about how much time we really have? I mean, we're not here very long, and we have to make the best of it, otherwise, what the hell are we living for?"

Rachel Goldstein slowly raised her left eyebrow, halted the chewing of her pen cover, and lifted her head. "What the hell are you talking about Holloway?!" she asked, throwing her partner a questioning gaze.

Frank shook his head, "I mean, we only live, what 70, 80 years? Looking back, don't ya wanna be able to tell the kids 'Ya know, I got everything I ever wanted out of life.'" he asked, looking at her.

She didn't respond. Instead, she shook her head, and turned back to her report, quite willing to dismiss her partner's obvious lack of good sense.

But Frank had other ideas. He grabbed the report from her hands, and held it out of her reach. "Frank!" she exclaimed, jumping up from her chair.

"Let's take this report here as an example. How long will you spend working on it?" he asked.

If looks could kill, Frank would have been sprawled out on the floor. "Frank..." she warned.

"Humour me eh?" he asked

She sighed. "Fine! Two hours then."

"Ok, so, in that two hours, isn't there something else you would rather be doing?" he asked.

"Of course there is...Frank, where are you going with all this?" she asked, eyeing her report.

"All I'm saying is that we spend too much time doing things we really don't want to do. Like reports..." he explained, handing her the stack of paper.

"Thank you." she muttered, accepting her report and once again took her seat.

"So, ya wanna go out for dinner?" he asked, a grin plastered on his face.

"What?" she asked. Wondering, not for the first time today, what in hell had come over her partner. "Who in hell are you and what have ya done with Frank?" she asked, staring at his child-like smile.

"C'mon Rach. Think of it as taking two hours and doing something worthwhile." he said. "Besides...it's not like your report is gonna move."

"Frank!" she shook her head. "What am I gonna do with you?" she asked.

"Have dinner with me!" he answered.

Rachel suddenly hit him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" he complained. "Whacha do that for?"

"Grow up Frank." she answered, hiding a grin of her own.

He looked at her again, his blue eyes questionaing.

"Fine!" she replied, turning back to her report.

He smiled. "Pick ya up at 7 then" he nodded, moving toward the door.

She only nodded, and shook her head once more.

"See ya later Goldie." he said, and walked out.

"Wait, Frank?" she called after him. He popped his head back in. 

"Yeah?" 

"Since when have you become such an expert in philosophy?" she asked.

He smiled. "Well, ya see, Jeff's fish died, and he was so upset over the little bugger. Poor Guy. Anyway..."

She stopped him. "His fish died?"

"Yep. And I.."

"Wait. On second though, I don't want to know." she replied, holding her hand up.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." he said, and left again.

Rachel Goldstein was left to stare after him. "His fish died?" she said aloud, her voice echoing in the empty room. It was on days like this that Rachel felt the urge to pull her hair out. But she had to admit, no matter how bazaar her partner was...and at times he was pretty far-fetched...she sure did love the old bloke!

  


Ende.

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